


2/25 - Evening

by fshep



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fshep/pseuds/fshep
Summary: "Which came first—your feelings for me, or your feelings for my ass?"





	

When Souji sends him a text, informing him that Nanako’s sleeping over at a friend’s and Dojima’s working the night shift—well.

That’s a blatant invitation, isn’t it? Just to be sure, he tentatively replies, _Want me 2 come over??_ It puts the ball in Souji's court, unloads a bit of the tension from Yosuke’s shoulders. After all, Souji's the leader, so shouldn’t he be the one calling the shots? Making important decisions like “Are we hanging out tonight? Circle one: Y/N.”

Although he’d bet good money that they won’t just be _hanging out_ tonight. Why else would Souji emphasize the absence of other company?

A moment passes while Yosuke’s mind buzzes with white noise. His phone chirps and reads: _I’d like it if you did_.

It feels like a knot tightens in his gut, a rush of warmth crawling up his spine. He really enjoys the deliberate way Souji phrases things. _I’d like it_ , he says, as if to remind Yosuke that he is, indeed, desired.

He’s never claimed to have stellar confidence.

 _omw! ;*  
__… in like 20min_ , he clarifies, because he just worked an eight-hour shift, he’s still in his uniform, and he hasn’t brushed his teeth since this morning.

He does the latter twice, just to be safe, and douses himself in a shower so hot he’s uncertain how he manages to stay unscathed by burns. He spends longer than necessary contemplating what he wants to wear. Not for aesthetics—he’s worn _drag_ around Souji, there can’t be anything worse than that—but… _mechanics_. He passes on his favorite pair of jeans (they’re too skinny to be removed without a significant amount of effort, and God only knows he has enough to worry about tonight) in favor of a pair of sweatpants.

The rest is simple: a v-neck and his winter coat. He ushers downstairs, grateful that Teddie has plans with the girls tonight, and his parents don’t blink when he tells them he’s staying the night at Souji’s on a Saturday night.

It’s a pretty short walk, and _cold_ , which he hadn’t really registered until Souji’s greeting dissolves into worried mothering.

“I know you have a warmer coat,” he admonishes, “so why don’t you wear it?”

“For the five minutes it takes to get over here? I’ll live.”

Souji sighs at him but leans in for a kiss anyway. It's soft, warm, and everything that makes Yosuke feel like he's home. 

They don’t waste time migrating to Souji’s room. His futon’s already spread onto the floor so Yosuke directs him toward it, and together they crawl over the covers with Yosuke above Souji.

Souji settles back against the cushion with ease, content to let Yosuke take the lead. It makes him nervous— _more_ nervous, he should say—and excited simultaneously. Like it’s a privilege he should cherish. He feels foolish as soon as the thought invades his mind, but he can’t help it. Souji just looks so… _unguarded_ like that, arms hanging loosely around Yosuke’s shoulders while he gazes up at him with undisguised fondness.

“Wh-what?” prompts Yosuke with an unbidden, bubbling laugh, unable to handle Souji’s lingering eyes.

“What?” Souji quips back.

“You’re—gah, forget it.” He surges forward, capturing Souji’s lips and tilting his head with his own, pressing himself close. Souji's hands begin to move, roaming over Yosuke’s shoulders and toward his chest. After a quick rearrangement of limbs, they have easy access to Yosuke’s lower back and, more importantly, his ass.

The groping feels nice, but he has to huff a laugh, which disrupts the flow of their kissing.

“Mm?” Souji manages.

“You don’t have to pretend like I’ve got an ass that needs admiring, dude. We both know I’m ninety percent bone.”

Souji looks like he’s going to protest before he thinks better of it. “It’s a little flat,” he admits. “But I like it.” To stress the point, he pats it again. _Well done_ , the gesture reads.

“Gee, thanks,” Yosuke drawls, although he soaks up the praise like a sponge. “You sure that’s not just your bias speaking? Which came first—your feelings for me, or your feelings for my ass? I feel like that’s an important distinction to make.”

It’s almost a surprise when Souji laughs—loud, too, which is rare. Yosuke dares to hope that it means Souji’s just as nervous as he is. An even playing field would make him feel a lot better about the butterflies going crazy in his chest.

He runs a hand through Souji’s hair, absently admiring the ease with which his fingers slide between the silver strands.

“I underestimated you,” says Souji. Yosuke tilts his head. “Rather… how talkative you’d be like this. I don’t know why I thought it’d be any different than the usual.”

“Is that a complaint?” He’d really like to know if it is, because he could find a way to make himself shut up. Probably. It’s just that the silence is so _loud_ , as contradictory as that is. He would’ve put on some music if they’d been in his own room. Or would that just make things more awkward?

 _Jeez. Can I just hurry up and_ not _be such a virgin anymore?_

To his relief, Souji shakes his head. His hands leave Yosuke’s ass, finally, and slide under the back of his shirt instead. They’re cold; his back arcs to compensate. “Not at all. It’d be weird if you weren’t.” Dulled nails skim around the knobs of his spine. _Ninety percent bone_. Souji’s voice turns thoughtful. “Like this, it’s… the same as always. Except with sex.”

“Wow,” Yosuke praises with exaggeration, “real eloquent. Is that why you have so many admirers? Your Machiavellian way with words?” He teases the phrase against Souji’s ear.

Souji sends him a withering glare. There’s no heat behind it. “You’re using _Machiavellian_ incorrectly.”

Yosuke doesn’t doubt that. He also ignores Souji's superior pronunciation of the name, because they’re not _studying_ , and he is _so_ not up for a lecture right now. So he kisses him again, and again. Souji starts tugging at the back of his shirt and he gets the hint, breaking away to pull it over his head and toss it aside with an eager flick of his wrist.

An abruptly loud _clattering_ causes Yosuke to swear, his entire body tensing in reaction. Both his and Souji's gazes jerk to the source of the sound: Souji's window, the blinds drawn closed but rattled nonetheless from the impact of Yosuke’s shirt.

“Oh my god,” Yosuke whispers, voice cracking. “I broke your window.”

“You didn’t break my window,” says Souji, patiently.

He knows that, logically, but still… “Why am I such an embarrassment?” he bemoans, head flopping to rest against Souji’s shoulder.

Once again, Souji laughs. This time, it’s even harder, louder, and _longer_ than before, and Yosuke feels like dying.

“It’s not _funny_.”

Souji laughs and laughs until he’s breathless. It’s cute. Absurdly so, in a way he couldn’t liken to Yukiko even if he tried. But that doesn’t lessen Yosuke’s mortification or let Souji off the hook for finding such obvious amusement in this disaster of a situation.

After a moment, he feels Souji take in a breath of air and release it before settling his hand on Yosuke’s back again. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “It’s endearing.”

“Ugh,” he mutters. “You know what? I’ve had enough reassurances. The next thing out of your mouth’s gonna be _praise_ , damn it!”

Sufficiently fired up, he lifts himself off of Souji, who’s merely regarding him with raised brows. Yosuke can’t meet his eyes for any longer than that, however—not while he’s pulling down Souji’s sweatpants (looks like they'd been sharing the same mentality) and boxers. He tosses them aside, _gently_ this time, and braces his hands on Souji's thighs.

He’s not going to stare at Souji’s dick while he psyches himself up, so he doesn’t waste any time in grasping it in his hand. It’s too dry to jack off, _that_ much he can say for sure, but he’s pleased to see pre-cum at the tip—like their weird version of foreplay had actually turned Souji on.

Maybe it did. The idea compels him to prop his elbows on either side of Souji’s hips and lick slowly up his length.

“Yosuke,” Souji stutters out, sounding winded. It’s about time.

He can also discern the blatant surprise, which is fair. Yosuke hadn’t envisioned himself sucking dick until he and Souji had officially began dating; once the seed was planted, an infestation took over. He might’ve done some research. Might’ve studied some videos. But no one would be able to confirm or deny if he did.

As he circles the tip with his lips, tasting skin and salt, he thinks, _Yeah, it’s definitely not me who gets anything out of this_. It’s actually pretty unpleasant for Yosuke. His arms are already starting to ache and he’s fairly certain that he won’t be able to fit much of Souji into his mouth. But he’s determined to make him feel good, nearly _desperate_ with the need to make him come.

He closes his eyes, relaxes his jaw, and reminds himself on repeat to breathe through his nose. It becomes a bit easier to bob his head in a careful rhythm. He’s not taking much and he’s sure it’s less than adequate, especially because Souji’s being so _quiet_ , so he lifts himself off to apologize.

Souji looks flushed. Maybe a shitty blowjob is better than no blowjob after all.

A little sheepish, he averts his eyes, but keeps his fingers secured tightly around Souji's cock so that he’s not left without any stimulation. “Sorry, I… first time,” he says, telling Souji what he already knows.

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Oh, stop.”

The tips of Souji’s fingers brush against Yosuke’s. “I mean it. It’s good. … Can you keep going?”

Yosuke glances at him again before nodding. Resolve strengthened, he slides his hand down to make room for his mouth. Being able to take more of Souji's dick has become somewhat of a personal goal, so he zeroes in on that. Unfortunately, it seems his minor gag reflex is deciding that suddenly it wants to be a _major_ gag reflex, and his entire body tenses with each rejection from his throat.

“Are you okay?” murmurs Souji. Yosuke thinks he shouldn’t be worrying; after all, _he’s_ in charge, controlling the pace and the depth. If he wasn’t up for the challenge, he’d have backed off by now.

If anyone has the right to be concerned, it’s Yosuke. Is the constant gagging a turn off? He’s pretty confident he won’t throw up. He’d rather drop dead than do that, actually, so the possibility’s pretty slim.

Souji’s hand settles on top of Yosuke’s head. That’s a good sign, he thinks, and hums the affirmative: _hell yeah, I’m okay._

Interestingly enough, Souji's hips twitch in response as he curses quietly.

_Huh. Humming?_

He pulls off, just for a moment, to catch his breath. Something occurs to him, and he bats lightly at Souji’s hip. “By the way, don’t come in my mouth. Not while I’m still getting used to… this.” At Souji's slightly crestfallen expression, he adds, “But anywhere else is game.”

“Okay,” Souji promises. He tugs at Yosuke’s hair, then, bringing him back toward his dick.

“Yeesh, point taken. I’m on it.” He tries not to sound too thrilled.

It’s possible that he’s starting to really get into it—and so is Souji, if the way he’s choking back moans is any indication. Each sound is obscene, nearly to the point of painful embarrassment, but the moment Yosuke starts concentrating on creating less of the smooth, slick noises from his wet lips, his focus breaks and he's back to gagging.

True to his word from before, Souji reluctantly urges Yosuke to back off with the grip in his hair. Yosuke picks up the cue, switching back to his hand.

His eyes flicker up to Souji's; they look hazy, yet their focus never wavers from Yosuke. As he tightens his grip, increases the pace, Souji's expression goes tight.

"Yeah, c'mon, partner. That’s it," he encourages, and to his absolute delight, Souji’s body stiffens and he’s coming, which is definitely one of the hottest things Yosuke has ever witnessed with the way Souji becomes choked and unhinged. He barely registers the cum spattering over his lips and cheeks because _he’s_ coming, too, his shoulders hunched as he grinds against the futon.

Shit. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing that at all.

He doesn’t want to look up from Souji’s pale thigh, too busy being overwhelmed by a myriad of feelings, but Souji doesn’t give him much of a choice. He sits up, forcing Yosuke to do the same—and then he’s cupping Yosuke’s face and pressing their lips together.

It’s not like he thought Souji would be the type of guy to resist a kiss after receiving a blowjob, but it melts Yosuke nonetheless, smoothing out his joints and coaxing him to lie back down on the futon properly.

Yosuke gazes up at the ceiling, exhausted. Souji turns on his side, facing him.

“You good?” he checks, brushing back Yosuke’s bangs from his face. It’s a sweet gesture, even if it makes Yosuke feel like a girl.

“Great,” he affirms, tilting his head toward Souji. “Although I’m not a huge fan of the cum drying on my face.”

Souji nods. “I’ll be right back.”

Yosuke watches him retrieve his boxers before he vanishes from the room. He takes the opportunity to discard the rest of his own clothes and grab the spare set he’d packed for tomorrow morning.

Souji returns with a rag as just Yosuke finishes dressing himself. He sits beside him and seriously looks as if he’s going to wipe his face _for_ him, then decides against it as he gives it to Yosuke instead. He’s relieved; there’s only so much embarrassment he can handle in one night.

“I hope that was okay.”

… And apparently he hasn’t hit that quota just yet. He grimaces at himself, scrubbing at his face with the washrag.

“All of it, I mean," he continues. "Like… yeah, you got off, but it had to be pretty amateur at best—”

He looks at Souji to find him smiling. Smirking, even.

He narrows his eyes. “What?”

“… Your voice.”

“What _about_ my—?” He stops, abruptly, as he notices the deep, hoarse quality of his speech. _Jesus Christ_. “… Yep. It’s decided. I officially can’t stand you.”

“I think it’s great,” says Souji with enthusiasm. His eyes are bright.

“You’re really into this, huh.”

Souji slides an arm behind Yosuke’s back, settling around his waist. “You shouldn’t worry so much. It’s like I said before—you seemed like you knew what you were doing.”

“Uh huh. You can say that because you’ve never had anybody else go down on you before.”

“No, really. The way you were moaning, like... you were really enjoying it? And I know you weren’t trying to gag, but when you did, your throat would tighten…” He shook his head wonderingly.

“Okay, okay! Jesus. I get the picture. You liked it, I did a good job, yay for us.” He buries his face into his hands.

“And how you _looked_ —”

He’s going to kill Souji. “Stop!” he barks, none too gently turning his weight against him so that they’re forced to lie down. Souji’s unshaken, simply adjusting his grip around Yosuke and holding him to his chest. He still feels like he should be objecting, but he’s sleepy and comfortable, so he can’t help but relax.

“Next time,” says Souji, and Yosuke prepares himself for more torment, “it’ll be me. And you can say whatever you want about it.”

 _Oh. Hm.._.

He’s not sure if he could survive the experience. It’s _Souji_ , so calm and dignified, and the thought of him choking on Yosuke’s dick is the beginning of a fantasy that’ll easily spin out of control if he doesn’t stop himself.

And now that he _knows_ what it’s like, knows it’s altogether unappealing (though not nearly as terrible as he’d been expecting)—the image of Souji doing it anyway, exerting the same admirable effort he does with everything else, eyes shining with determination, causes Yosuke to get a little hot under the collar. Metaphorically speaking.

“Whatever I want, huh? You’re gonna regret that.”

“Somehow,” muses Souji, sweeping his hand along Yosuke’s back, “I don’t think so.”


End file.
